It’s Time, It’s Time
New Year clocks on over fog valley,
temperate Tibetans account for contributions.
Suburbs struggle and sweat through a summer
scented with mumbles and deceptions.
Fat detractors and software spruikers expire,
the paddockbashers steam from the load.
The thin mechanic massages a cigarette:
“Could ship ʾer off, up the road –
get the Billinudgel Boys to take a look,
but a cracked head is a cracked head.”
The skyline oils in the mercury ascent,
from mosquitoes and humidity exiles fled.
The boss does the Copacabana in Caloundra,
Jim Wage sneaks off for a lunchtime splash
loosens his tie, stuck jaw wide, at his wife
and her lover coitus interruptus confabulation.
The advice at the lectures is dorothy dixed,
VB-addle cognition until everything is fixed.
Scourge of Brisbane’s poetasters (indeed of all that breed) Liam Ferney (1979-) is an irascible risk-taking entertainer who earns his living as a PR flak. Encountering, together with his colleague Jaya Savige, Forbes’ Ode to Karl Marx was one of the major events in his early career. Earlier still, from the age of 14 he was involved in poetry readings and festivals. His latest volume Boom has just been launched.